Old Time's Sake
by RevolutionaryElephant
Summary: Ron and Draco are meeting again after all these years. Sequel to Lust. DxR


Once upon a time....no wait, that sounds stupid.  
  
I'm nervous. I don't know why, but I can't sit still, and even though I've really been ready for  
  
fifty minutes, I keep standing up, walking to the other side of the room, and checking my  
  
appearance in the mirror. To be honest, I'm petrified, and I have reason. The person who  
  
made my life Hell at school has got in touch with me after four years, four painfully beautiful  
  
years, and decided to walk straight back into my life.  
  
"Calm down, Ron," says Harry, eyeing me cautiously. I think he thinks I'm about to do  
  
something stupid, just because I've gone deadly pale and can't help but uttering 'bloody  
  
Malfoy' under my breath everytime I hear a noise.  
  
I'd like to think he's late, but I know full well he's not. In fact, he shouldn't be arriving for  
  
another twenty minutes. I'd like to fault him, but I can't. Thing is, I fancy the pants off him. I  
  
haven't seen him, but the mere thought of him makes my cock harden like a bloody bulldog's.  
  
I think I'm going to be sick, but I know that wouldn't be the best move. No. The best move  
  
would be to sit still, maybe talk a bit, play some Chess, listen to some music. But I can't. I'm all  
  
fidgety. I feel like a freakin' girl. Not that I know what it's like to feel like a girl. I know what it's  
  
like a look like a girl, after that awful Polyjuice incident a year or two back, involving Ginny and  
  
me and Ginny's boyfriend, but I don't know what it's like to actually be a girl.  
  
I look in the mirror again. It's a boring old Muggle mirror my dad picked up in a junk shop three  
  
years back when me and Harry first rented this place out, but I still love it. The reflection it  
  
gives isn't perfect, so it's not like the real me, but a kind of hazy version. I think my dad knew  
  
I'd like it, and that's why he chose it. Anyway, I can see myself staring back. I look so awful,  
  
but nothing more's to be expected. My hair....well, that looks alright. It's red and bright and  
  
nothing can be done about that, short of shaving it all off or dying it, but I don't want to look  
  
stupid. My face is what I'm worried about. He used to make fun of my freckles, and they  
  
completely cover me. Plus, over the past couple of years I've gotten myself a few Quidditch  
  
scars.  
  
Somehow, the whole image thing is the last of my worries. The first is that I'm going to be a  
  
total dick, or that Draco's going to be so hot that I can barely keep hold of myself, or that he's  
  
got himself a boyfriend or something stupid. Not that I'd care. I just - well, he's quite good in  
  
bed, and I never thought that that last one would be the last, you know. Then again, you never  
  
think it's the last one of anything until after it happens.  
  
"Ron, will you please calm it. You're spooking me out," Harry says, tugging on my arm, and  
  
guiding me back to the sofa. I can't sit still once I'm there, of course, but it's nice to be away  
  
from my reflection, and nice to have a face other than my own to stare into. Nice to be sat  
  
down in case my legs give way.  
  
"I'm calm," I say, trying to make myself believe it. "I'm calm."  
  
But I can't believe it. Every emotion, every creeping feeling I got during those long years at  
  
school, are coming back at me, and with a vengeance. I wish that I'd just told Malfoy to get  
  
stuffed, but I didn't. And I know why. Because that boy is hot, and because, well, I admit it. I  
  
guess I have some kind of feelings for him. Hatred, lust, whatever. But they're there.  
  
I'd rather I didn't have feelings for him. I wish I could shut them all out, and imagine they never  
  
happened, they're not happening. But they are. And me and him, well, we have a past. A  
  
history. One of those things that can't go away no matter what. I wish it would.  
  
I'm still feeling nervous. Desperately, achingly so. I wish someone but Harry were here.  
  
Hermy, probably. She's good at calming me. Well, only on certain occasions. She also has the  
  
ability to wind me up like a bloody Muggle clock, but at least it'd take my mind off things. But  
  
there's just Harry, and he's staring at me as though I'm about to leap out of the window. Not  
  
that that would be that bad. We're on the ground floor.  
  
Now there's a flicker in the flames, and there's only one explanation. He's here, and my  
  
stomach is going nuts. My balls are going nuts, but I guess they always have been. Harry  
  
looks at me, nods, stands up, and walks straight out of the room. He doesn't want to see  
  
Malfoy at all after everything they went through, the whole enemies thing. Harry's stolen every  
  
bit of my hatred for the man who's about to appear - for the moment, at least.  
  
And before I know it, I'm joined by a figure I barely recognise. He's handsome, blonde, pale,  
  
Malfoy. He's dressed elegantly. He's still the same person he was then on the outside, only  
  
older. But I can detect something just under the surface. This man has changed a lot. After all  
  
he's been through, I guess that goes without saying, but it still takes me by surprise.  
  
"Hello Ron," he says. His voice hasn't changed in the slightest. I ache for him just for a  
  
second. "I'm not late, am I?"  
  
"Oh, not at all," I say. He's actually about three minutes late, but I'm not about to admit it.  
  
He walks towards me, and kisses me on the cheek. When he pulls back, I know that I'm as  
  
red as my hair, but he doesn't seem bothered by it at all. I'm desperately embarrassed.  
  
We both start to speak, and laugh nervously. I nod, and he smiles at me, that smile that is so  
  
goddamn sexy. My hatred towards him is still draining out of me, and all I feel is that burning  
  
ache in my crotch and a strong desire.  
  
"Shall we go now?" he asks, and I nod again. I feel like a bloody nodding dog. I've barely  
  
spoken, and when I did, I didn't sound anything like myself at all. I'm just nodding at him. He  
  
probably thinks there's something wrong with my neck. Or my throat.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The bar is filled, and I feel somewhat saddened. Just across the street, I can see the Three  
  
Broomsticks, with barely anyone inside. I used to love that place, the atmosphere, the drinks. I  
  
even had a bit of a crush on the barmaid. But not now. No, now I'm here with Draco Malfoy,  
  
and I feel very awkward.  
  
I can barely talk. It's hot in here, what with the people and the fact that I'm sickeningly nervous,  
  
and despite my drink, my mouth is dry. Also, I don't know what to say. I don't want to sound  
  
stupid. I really want to impress him. Half because I want him to think that he's smarter than  
  
me, and half because I get the feeling I won't get any action if I sound too stupid. Then again,  
  
he may be a horny little bastard.  
  
"You're not much of a conversationalist, are you? Definitely not the Ron I remember. But still,  
  
at least you're not insulting me every five seconds like the old days. And you're not launching  
  
into any ballsy speeches, either."  
  
No, I'm not much of a conversationalist. I need to act natural. Natural. But the natural me  
  
would be cracking a load of not funny jokes in an attempt to cover up my fear and anxiety. I  
  
can't do that now.  
  
I grunt some kind of a bloody response, although I'm sure I sound stupid. I care, of course I  
  
care, but I can't do anything about it.  
  
"Anyway, how have you been keeping yourself?"  
  
Now I can talk. I think. I can talk without thinking of something smart and witty.  
  
"Alright, thanks. Not doing so bad, actually. You?"  
  
"Oh, I'm alright, actually. Nothing's changed much."  
  
"C'mon, Draco. You're the estranged son of a dead man and an insane woman. It's actually  
  
quite refreshing to see you doing something for yourself."  
  
"I was wrong. You haven't changed in the slightest. You're still the Ron we all know.....and  
  
love," he says, and smiles. I blush ridiculously, even though I know it was just a saying. But it  
  
feels so much like he's flirting with me.  
  
And then suddenly I can talk normally. I can talk like me, talk like the Ron he knows and  
  
possibly loves. I can talk to him like I've known him all my life, and I have known him for half of  
  
it. In fact, I know him better than anyone else in some ways. And he definitely knows me  
  
better. That whole outburst I had at Hogsmeade that time has made it impossible for me to  
  
hide anything from him.  
  
"And so I should be. I think. I mean, I don't think there's anything wrong with me."  
  
Draco smiles, and gives me that all knowing look, the one that made me think he was a total  
  
sneaky little fucker all those years back. All those years. It makes it seem like it was ages ago  
  
that we were romping in the woods and at each other's throats. And I look at the man in front  
  
of me, handsome, particular, very charming, and see something I never saw before.  
  
Insecurities, anxieties. I never thought I'd hear myself think this, let alone say it, but I actually  
  
feel sorry for the guy. In fact, I don't even hate him anymore.  
  
"No. There's nothing wrong with you, Ron Weasley. Anyway, are you ready to order? Shall we  
  
grab a table?"  
  
And so we do. We find ourselves a table right by the window, with a great view of The Three  
  
Broomsticks. I can see the misery in the air when the huge door is pulled open by one of the  
  
punters, and I feel bad that I'm sat in here, drinking and laughing, whilst that pub, the one that  
  
used to be filled with such mirth, is losing business.  
  
I'm starving, but until a few minutes ago, I didn't notice that. Somehow I know that I've been  
  
hungry for a while, but I never really thought about it. It only struck me when I became  
  
comfortable with talking to Draco. Malfoy. When I became comfortable with talking to  
  
Malfoy.  
  
"You okay?" he asks me, and I turn back to face him. He's beautiful now he's older, now he's  
  
so vulnerable. I never thought I'd find vulnerabiliy so sexy. This man has been through the mill  
  
over the last few years, what with his father being killed, and his mum going crazy, and him  
  
finding himself homeless and penniless. The poor sod mustn't have had the first idea about  
  
looking after himself. He mustn't have had a clue.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about the old days. You know, when everyone used to go out to  
  
The Three Broomsticks of a weekend, and when we used to get our Butterbeer there, and - "  
  
"And when we fucked like rabbits just over there," Draco added with a smile, nodding towards  
  
the moors.  
  
"Nah. I mean, not that that doesn't hold a special place in my memory. But I was thinking  
  
about The Three Broomsticks. This place is lovely and all, but it's going to run the old pub out  
  
of business, what with it being trendy and stylish and just opposite."  
  
Draco suddenly smiles, and grabs my hand. I thrill at the touch, and smile inwardly that my  
  
secret lover of all those years is making contact again. Of course, he kissed me on the cheek,  
  
but I didn't get to feel anything.  
  
"I think I know what to do then. Let's go over and have our meal there. We haven't ordered  
  
yet. And this place is packed, losing two customers won't make so much of a difference. And  
  
to be honest with you, I'm not so sure if I can afford the prices in this place. It's bloody steep!"  
  
And so I leap to my feet. I'm so glad to hear him say that.  
  
"Are you entirely sure you're Draco Malfoy? Cos the Draco Malfoy I knew and hated would  
  
never have been so damnright lovely. He never would have thought about the prices in a  
  
bloody bar, either."  
  
Draco laughs his surprisingly deep laugh. I smile at it, and realise that I never heard him laugh  
  
all that much before. Only when he was jesting someone, and that was never a true, honest  
  
laugh. Those kind of laughs weren't heard very much these days.  
  
"I'm not the Draco Malfoy you knew and hated. I'm the Draco Malfoy you know and love."  
  
And with that, he stands up from his chair, never letting go of my hand, and walks out of the  
  
door. I hurry after him, trying my hardest not to break the link between the pair of us. It strikes  
  
me as freezing cold outside, despite the fact it's only early evening and it's spring. I guess  
  
that's due to the shock after the warm air that was rushing out of the door and escaping into  
  
the street.  
  
Draco pushes open the door, and the pair of us step inside, to mixed reaction. Generally, the  
  
people inside are shocked to see us together, but some don't know us in there. I hear  
  
someone mentioning the fact that we're both male and holding hands, but I'm not sure  
  
whether it's an insult or not.  
  
"Bless my soul!" says Madam Rosmerta, the barmaid I had a crush on years again. "If it's not -  
  
why it's Ron Weasley! And Draco Malfoy? I never thought I'd see you two together!"  
  
"No, me neither," Draco gushes, looking back at me. We still haven't broken contact, but now I  
  
feel incredibly self conscious. I recognise a few people in here. Some of my old school friends  
  
are in here, not ones I know particularly well, but I know them nonetheless. They're looking at  
  
me weirdly, almost as though they've just seen the most spectacular even of their lifetimes.  
  
Some of them possibly have. One stands up, and walks towards me.  
  
"Hello, Ron," says Ernie MacMillan, holding out his hand for me to shake it. I let go of Draco's  
  
hand, and shake Ernie's.   
  
"Hey, Ernie. How're you?" I ask him, dead polite, you see.  
  
"I'm alright, thanks." He leans over, and whispers something into my ear. I'm quite offended.  
  
You see, he says "Is that really Draco Malfoy you're with? You're still knocking around with  
  
him? Man, the pair of yous must be desperate!"  
  
I know what he means. I know he means that we're both from very different worlds, because  
  
we are. But now we're equal. And I can't stand the fact that some ponce who's out here with  
  
the most disgusting girl I've ever seen in my life short of some of those Slytherins thinks he  
  
has the right to lecture me on my love life.   
  
My love life. I've thought it now. Is Draco my love life? I guess he is, seeing as I'm out on a  
  
date with him. Is it a date? I really don't know. Is it just a casual fuck? That seems more likely,  
  
in which case this isn't my love life, but my sex life. That reassures me for a second. Just one  
  
second, I'll have you know. But still, it's reassuring.  
  
And so I smile at Ernie, and he sits down. Arrogant little twat. No offence or anything, but I was  
  
never too taken with the Hufflepuffs. A little annoying.  
  
"So, lads, what is it you're having?" asks Rosmerta, with a bit of a cheeky wink. I get a flicker  
  
of exactly why I had that crush on her, just for a second, and I expect Draco feels the same,  
  
but then it's all over, and I realise that I'm gay.  
  
"Umm, can I have a bottle of Butterbeer and a roast potato with tuna and cheese, please?" I  
  
ask, settling myself down into one of the bar stools.  
  
"Certainly, Mr Weasley. And you, Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"I'll have a Firey Wendelin and roast beef with mashed potato and spring onions, please  
  
Madam."  
  
And here we are, sat alone in the pub, on a date. An actual date. Somehow it's hit me that this  
  
is a date, and not me and Draco out for a friendly meal. Me and Draco could never be friendly.  
  
"So - I feel rather stupid asking you this." he says, looking at me with a slight pink tint to his  
  
translucent skin. "Don't answer if you don't want."  
  
"Umm, okay. What is it?" I ask, feeling incredibly stupid myself.  
  
"Well, Ron, it's rather cliche, but do you have anyone special? A boyfriend?"  
  
I blush myself, wondering if this is an attempt of his to get off with me. He just has to ask, he  
  
knows that.  
  
"No. No, I don't. You?" I had to ask back, because it would have been rude of me not to.  
  
"No," he says, and he smiles at me. Boy, that man has one incredible smile. I should know.  
  
I've seen some incredible smiles in my time. And I realise that all night, he's not smirked once,  
  
and there have been absolutely no sarcastic comments.  
  
"You really have changed, haven't you? I mean, you're so different. You're nice. I can't believe  
  
I'm saying it, but you are."  
  
"You know more than anyone what it's like to pretend to be something you're not. I guess  
  
that's what I was doing. Pretending. I mean, I'm still the nasty piece of work I used to be. Had I  
  
seen Harry when I came to yours, I would have been very much the thirteen year old bully I  
  
used to be, but with some people, I guess I've changed."  
  
I smile. I know exactly what he means. I've changed too after four long years, but not to the  
  
same extent as him. Harry hasn't changed one bit. He's different around me because I'm  
  
different. But Harry's the same, so he'll act just the same. And anyway, Draco's been through  
  
a Hell of a lot. He was disowned, taken off his father's will, watched his father die and then  
  
watched his mother go insane. He lost everything within a few months. Everything he ever  
  
had. He was only left with himself, and he knew that he couldn't carry on living how he was.  
  
Or at least that's my theory. I'm not so great with these kind of things.  
  
"Do you like the new me, then?" he asks, with another one of those honest laughs.  
  
"I guess I do," I reply, laughing myself.  
  
And with that, we sit silent for a few minutes, each thinking about something. I can only guess  
  
what he's thinking about, and I don't like to do that, so I absorb myself in my own thoughts.  
  
I think tonight's going rather smoothly. I felt uncomfortable at first, but now, the fact that we're  
  
not talking so much doesn't matter to me at all. It's almost as though we don't have to talk.  
  
Half of the time, I know what he means just by looking at him. I'm not saying I can read his  
  
mind, but if he only gave me half of the story, I'd see the whole picture just by looking in his  
  
delicious blue eyes.  
  
Delicious. The boy I used to hate, the boy who used to anger me so much, I now think he's  
  
delicious. Had that thought sprung into my mind ten years ago, things would have been so  
  
much easier. And maybe they will be from now on. Because he's all I can think about. Right  
  
from graduation day, he's been all I can think about.  
  
And now I think he's delicious. Now I think I'm falling in love with him, but that's ridiculous.  
  
Were this anyone else treating me like this, looking like this, maybe. But it's not. It's Draco  
  
Malfoy. Maybe he is redeemed. Maybe he is a good guy now. Maybe he doesn't treat me like  
  
dirt. Maybe he does dress impeccably. But the thing is that we still have a past.  
  
And maybe that's why I love him. Because he is Draco Malfoy, and because everything has to  
  
have an opposite. We used to be opposites. Poor vs rich. Good vs evil. Now we're one. No  
  
more opposites. And no more hate. Just the opposite. Love.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I can hear him breathing. He's breathing softly, and his chest is rising up and down, slowly but  
  
steadily. My hand is moving up and down with it, placed gently on top of his bare skin. We're  
  
alone at last, after four years. Four long years of waiting. Four long years of aching. Now we're  
  
back together, joined as one once more.  
  
I'm not sure why this all happened. I don't even want to think about it. The point is that I'm  
  
lying alone with you in your flat whilst you sleep, watching you. He looks so young, so  
  
innocent. I look around his room, and I can instantly tell that, despite the fact he's charmed it  
  
to look quite cosy, it's not the kind of place he's used to living in. He's used to sumptuous  
  
fabrics and luscious wallpapers. Grand furniture. That kind of thing. Well, I guess so anyway.  
  
Personally, I don't think this place looks so bad, but I'm not used to much better.  
  
His skin is so soft and milky. He's perfect, I hate to say. He's perfect to look at, every inch of  
  
him is what I've wanted my entire life. He's a perfect lover now, too, considerate, kind,  
  
passionate.  
  
I want to cry, but I don't do crying. I want to shout, but I don't want to wake you. I realise  
  
that you are Draco Malfoy, the real one. You were the real one back then, just different. And I  
  
think I really do love you. All that time, I think I loved you. All those trysts, those secret  
  
meetings. Those times we met and did nothing but fucked, I think I loved you. I think I was the  
  
usual confused teenager, but I wasn't confused about my sexuality like most boys who go  
  
around shagging other boys. I was confused about you. I thought I hated you, thought that the  
  
things you did made my skin crawl. I thought that I wanted you dead, thought I wanted to hurt  
  
you. How wrong could I have been? But I wasn't that far out. There's no different in hate and  
  
love. And even though right now I love you, I know there'll be times when you bug me. I know  
  
there'll be times when we hate each other, because the two things are easy to confuse. But  
  
the point is that right now I love you, and I always did.  
  
And he wakes up, and looks right at me. He smiles, and comes in to kiss me. Of course I've  
  
kissed others since the last time we saw each other, but none of them have been Draco  
  
Malfoy. None of them have kissed with such sincerity. No other tongue has danced with mine.  
  
No other mouth has fit in with mine so well, so perfectly. We're like two pieces of a jigsaw, me  
  
and Draco Malfoy. Two pieces, both the same, both different. But together, forever. 


End file.
